July 28, 2013

"Far North Farm" [by John Tranter]

A, silver, E, snow, U, dead-leaf green:Spoons with sugar and dripping water, hillocks of snowTraversed by hopeful young men with a moneyed
glowAnd sleds and perspiration, silver-blue clouds againChilling the horizon, a thousand miles to go.Leave these ‘adventurers’, laughing in betweenSigning media deals and muttering something obscene.Schoolboys worship them, writing out a motto

In Latin, about suffering and stiff upper lips.I, salmon sandwiches and hot chips.O, the empty bottle is the colour of fear.Push on. You’ll make it home, at dawn.Who cares that you look a right prawn,Sipping absinthe in the Pub with No Beer.

Comments

"Far North Farm" [by John Tranter]

A, silver, E, snow, U, dead-leaf green:Spoons with sugar and dripping water, hillocks of snowTraversed by hopeful young men with a moneyed
glowAnd sleds and perspiration, silver-blue clouds againChilling the horizon, a thousand miles to go.Leave these ‘adventurers’, laughing in betweenSigning media deals and muttering something obscene.Schoolboys worship them, writing out a motto

In Latin, about suffering and stiff upper lips.I, salmon sandwiches and hot chips.O, the empty bottle is the colour of fear.Push on. You’ll make it home, at dawn.Who cares that you look a right prawn,Sipping absinthe in the Pub with No Beer.